


Remember That I Love You

by ivelostallcontrolofmylife



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Recovered Memories, Romance, Stucky - Freeform, cute stuff, tony has a crush on steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 21:59:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostallcontrolofmylife/pseuds/ivelostallcontrolofmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been a difficult year for Steve Rogers. It doesn't get any easier when Tony wrangles him into going to a New Year's Eve masquerade party. But it does get a little bit easier when an unexpected guest shows up, inviting old memories and reigniting old passions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember That I Love You

“So, what is it that you wanted to talk to me about, Tony?” Steve asked, dropping down onto the too-new couch.  
  
Tony, draped over the couch opposite, grinned and asked, “Have you got any plans for New Years?”  
  
Steve sighed. “Why?”  
  
“Because the City of New York is throwing a party and we've all been invited.”  
  
“We?” Steve glanced around the room. He had noticed that the common area of the new Avengers facility had been a little more full than usual when he'd entered, and he wondered if they were all waiting on this exchange. Natasha, curled up in the corner of the the couch on Tony's right, simply raised an eyebrow. Sam grinned from his position by the pool table, where he'd challenged Clint and Rhodey to a game. Neither of them gave any indication as to what they thought, whilst in the doorway Wanda merely shrugged. Bruce was dozing in one of the armchairs but Steve had the feeling he wouldn't have gotten much from him anyway.  
  
“As the Avengers, we've done a lot for the city,” Tony said, leaning back casually. “The mayor thought it fit to invite the Avengers to his New Year's celebration. Naturally, I accepted the invitation.”  
  
“Of course you did.” Steve rolled his eyes. “And did you think about the fact that this would be the perfect opportunity for someone to do something terrible? With the Avengers out partying, who knows what some villainous types might get up to.”  
  
“It'll be fine.” Tony waved his hand dismissively. “No one will do anything. It's New Years! Besides, you need to get out more. This will do you good!”  
  
Steve scrubbed a hand over his face. “It's not really any of your business how often I get out.”  
  
“Aw, come on,” Sam laughed. “It'll be fun.”  
  
“Even the tin can's coming,” Clint commented as he lined up his shot.  
  
Tony pointed at him from across the room. “Now, that's no way to be talking about Vision.”  
  
“Just come,” Natasha said “It'll be easier than dealing with Tony pouting all night about you not being there.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Tony started, but Steve interrupted. “Fine, I'll go.”  
  
“Great!” Tony got to his feet and made for the door quickly. As Wanda moved out of his way, he threw over his shoulder, “Oh and by the way, it's a masquerade.”

Steve opened his mouth but Tony vanished, leaving Sam laughing and Rhodey shaking his head as he took his shot.  
  
“You'll enjoy yourself,” Natasha said, getting gracefully to her feet.  
  
Steve nodded, but he didn't really believe it. He hadn't been quite the same since the events of the S.H.I.E.L.D/HYDRA incident. After seventy years in the ice, he'd emerged into a world he didn't know. He'd done his best to acclimate, and then in a split-second, in a flash of silver and red, everything had been turned upside down and shaken up yet again. Bucky constantly haunted his thoughts. Even as Ultron had attacked, his mind always found its way back to Bucky. Now Pietro was dead, Thor hadn't made any attempt to communicate since leaving for Asgard months ago, and the Avengers were struggling to put themselves back together with the new team, but Steve still couldn't drag himself from memories that seemed so fresh and raw. Bucky, bright-eyed and smiling. Bucky, rambling and in pain in a HYDRA base. Bucky, clinging on to the side of a train for dear life, disappearing into the depths of snow and history.

Steve shook his head and got to his feet. Sam started to ask where he was going, but he ignored him and quickly walked away.

***

Steve readjusted the ribbon holding his mask to his face for the hundredth time. He'd assumed it wouldn't feel too different from the Captain mask, but there was something stuffy and pressing about the one that clung to his face now. Tony had ordered each to be made specially for each member. Steve's was a half-mask – it covered the right side of his face to his cheek, a splash of red adorning the top right, whilst the black-coloured left side only reached across his eyebrow, leaving the rest of his face exposed. The white centre of the mask had glittered in the light when he'd picked it up to try it on and while he hadn't wanted to admit it to Tony, he'd appreciated the beauty of it. But he'd been milling around the party for hours now and the mask was hot and unevenly heavy against his skin.

He looked over to the large clock hung on one of the more prominent walls. Fifteen minutes to midnight. He sighed to himself and decided hanging around the tables of food seemed a more attractive option than hanging around the politicians and New York's elite, who seemed to constantly need his attention. As he made his way over, someone called his name and he looked up to see Natasha, Clint, Vision, and Wanda, who was resettling her sharp, red-and-black mask on her face. He hadn't had a chance to see them most of the night and looked them up and down briefly. Clint and Vision had dressed up for the occasion, the former's deep purple velvet mask complementing the bow tie Natasha had picked out for him, and the latter's silver mask, with small patches of purple and green, moulded to his face perfectly. Natasha flashed a smile at Steve and asked, “Enjoying yourself?”  
  
“Absolutely,” he replied, throwing in a smile for good measure.  
  
Someone dropped a heavy hand onto Steve's shoulder and he flinched, twisting to see who was behind him. He relaxed when he saw a more-than-tipsy Tony, with a woman hanging off each arm and his gold filigree mask askew.  
  
“Found yourself a New Year's kiss yet?” he grinned, winking. “There are dozens of beautiful ladies here just waiting for you to make a move.”  
  
“Excuse me,” Steve said before he could be dragged into a conversation with the man. He slipped away, leaving Tony to pout and complain to Natasha.

He'd barely gone more than a few steps when someone grabbed his arm. He turned, expecting Tony, but found a beautiful young woman smiling up at him from beneath her plain black mask.  
  
“Mr Rogers,” she said, loosening her grip a little. “I'm glad I've finally been able to catch up with you. It's almost midnight, you know.”  
  
With a forced smile, Steve removed her hand from his arm. “I'm very sorry to disappoint, ma'am, but I'm not looking for a kiss tonight.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” the brunette woman said smoothly, taking his hand in both of hers. Something sharp rubbed against his palm. “I just wanted to let you know that I'm quite the fan. I hope you enjoy your night, Mr Rogers.”  
  
And with that, she slipped away, an echo in a room of noise. Steve opened his hand and stared blankly at the folded piece of paper the woman had slipped him. Carefully, he opened it and read:

**New Year's Eve, 1938. Do you remember it?  
**   
**Meet me on the rooftop. I won't be there long.**

For a long moment, Steve stood there and stared. He reread the message, and then again, and then again. His gaze traced every familiar curve and spike of the writing. His heart leapt into his throat.

He had the presence of mind not to run as he quietly slipped towards the closest stairwell. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to what he was doing. Once he was alone, he ran for the roof, taking the stairs three at a time.

It was only when he burst out onto the rooftop that he contemplated the thought of the note being a trap. But by then it was too late, and it didn't matter anyway. The rooftop was empty. Steve looked around and walked to the edge of the roof. There was no sign that anyone had been here at all. His heart started to sink back into place. Not a trap. A cruel joke. He stared out over the city skyline, at the murky black sky and stars that dared to shine through.

A split-second before he heard the voice, he felt his presence behind him. And then the words echoed around him and he turned.  
  
“You got the note.”  
  
Steve couldn't breathe. Bucky stared at him, eyes shaded by the simple mask he wore – black on the left, silver on the right. Steve reached out to remove it and Bucky shied back.  
  
“Buck...”  
  
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Bucky asked.  
  
Steve shook his head. “Not at all.”  
  
Bucky nodded and looked away, though he seemed a little far away and vague. “You never did like this sort of thing.”  
  
“Buck, what are you doing here? How did you get here?”  
  
“I've... met people. They helped.”  
  
A pang of jealousy flashed through Steve. “I can help you.”  
  
Bucky met his gaze again. There was pain in his eyes, anguish and heartbreak he was keeping just below the surface. “I'm... I'm not doing this to hurt you. I have to. I have to... do things. Learn. Remember.”  
  
“You remember New Year's Eve, going into '38.” Steve couldn't help the wistful smile that crept onto his face.  
  
Bucky nodded again. “I remember that. But it's... hazy. There are blank spaces. That's why I'm here. I need to... remember. And I want you to remember, and know that I'm okay.”  
  
“Come back with me.” Steve stepped forward and reached out to take Bucky's hands. Bucky flinched and kept his hands away. “Please. I want to help you. I... I need you to come back.”  
  
“I am,” Bucky said softly. “Slowly. Pieces are coming back. I will come back, eventually. When I know everything's right. When I know your... people... won't hurt me.”

In the distance, the sounds of the countdown to midnight began. A ten second count. Bucky reached up at seven. Touched Steve's face at six. Rubbed his thumb over his cheek at four. Pulled him closer at two. And when the whole city cheered for the new year, when the fireworks exploded and lit up the sky, Bucky closed the gap and kissed him.

New Years 1938 had been a drunk, open-mouthed declaration. They'd kissed a few times, in private. But Bucky had been drunk, Steve only a little less so. They'd spilled out onto the streets to celebrate, mixing in with the crowds. And Bucky had grabbed him by the shirt and planted a heavy, whiskey-filled kiss on him, and giggled about how much he loved him. They'd been chased by someone who had seen and disapproved, and they ended the night dealing with Steve's resultant asthma attack before making out in a back alley. All of those memories flooded Steve's head all at once, and then they were gone, replaced with the hesitant touch of Bucky's lips against his; his fingers, rough and metal, against the sides of his face; the soft click of their masks touching.

And then Bucky broke away, whispered, “I remember.” He let go and Steve chased him, grabbing his shoulders before Bucky could react.  
  
“I have to go.” Bucky tried to keep Steve's gaze, but he kept flickering between his eyes and his lips.  
  
“Promise me you'll come back.”  
  
“I will come back. When things are better.”  
  
Steve nodded, keeping his face neutral, as if his heart wasn't tearing apart at the thought of losing Bucky again. “Remember something else for me, would you?”  
  
Bucky cocked his head as Steve let go of him.  
  
“Remember that I love you.”  
  
Bucky nodded and turned away. Steve closed his eyes – he couldn't watch him go. After a few minutes, he reopened them to an empty, quiet rooftop.

He made his way back downstairs and rejoined the party. As he wound his way through the crowds of people, a familiar heavy hand grabbed his shoulder and he turned to a dishevelled Tony, the two women still hanging on to him.  
  
“Get yourself a kiss?” Tony laughed.  
  
Steve smiled softly. “Yes, I did.”  
  
“Told you so!” Tony cackled.  
  
Steve noticed someone pushing their way through the crowd towards them. It took him a moment to recognise the man beneath the black and silver mask, reminiscent of the visor of a suit of armour, but eventually the name came to him.

“Colonel Rhodes,” he said as the man finally reached them.  
  
“Captain,” Rhodey replied, “There's been an incident out in Queens. A couple of explosions, guys in tactical gear. Rumours are already flying that it's HYDRA.”  
  
Steve closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Tony. With a quick raise of his eyebrows he quipped, “Told you so.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who has an immense love for pre-war Stucky?  
> Guess who has an immense love for recovering Bucky?  
> Guess who spent far too long researching masquerade masks for each of the Avengers?
> 
> Hint: it's me


End file.
